A Little Late-Night Liqour
by Juliet Knighly
Summary: Six years after the war, Hermione is still dealing PTSD. After work one night, she gets a visitor, and maybe they can heal each other. Draco/Hermione pairing. T For Strong Alcohol Content and Mild Sensuality.


_**STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY**_

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••••  
Hermione strode up the steps of her flat to her bedroom, pulling off her shirt as she did so.  
When she reached it, she shimmied out of her skirt, pulled on a flimsy nightdress, and flopped onto her bed.  
Work was nothing but a pain anymore, and that was practically all she did, except once in a while she'd go out for a drink at a bar. But that was mostly it. Work and drink, drink and work. Mundane, but she was alive, wasn't she? Unlike all those people...  
And that was all it took. She covered her face with her hands and silently began to sob.  
Though it'd been 6 years since the war, Hermione was still dealing with PTSD. She saw a psychiatrist every Tuesday and Thursday, but it hadn't really helped, and more often than not she ended her days by drinking till she passed out. It was the only way she could sleep without dreams. Nightmares, rather. The faces of the dead danced before her each night, wailing and calling for her to save them. She could never do anything.  
Sitting up, she stumbled down the stairs again to her liquor cabinet and recited the password to unlock it. Taking out a tall shot glass and decanter of vodka, she poured herself a large glass of the clear liquid.  
While on her third shot, she heard someone floo in. She recognized the gait.  
"Why the hell are you in my house, Malfoy?" She questioned, not turning from her drink.  
Both of them worked as Unspeakables after the war, and though it was tense at first, they'd learned to at least somewhat get along in order to work easier.  
"You forgot your research file. Marcellus said you needed it tonight and made me floo over." He answered, slapping a manilla file onto the dining table.  
She mumbled a thanks, then poured another glass. He sighed.  
"If you're going to kill yourself, I would suggest something other than alcohol overdose. It's too slow." Draco said, taking the vodka from her.  
"Would you care to join me? I know you're still dealing with it." She stated.  
He froze on his way to the fireplace.  
"And just how did you know that?"  
She smirked. "You just told me."  
He exhaled loudly, then took another shot glass from the cabinet. Hermione grinned bitterly as she poured the liquid into the glass and clinked her cup to his.  
"To self-pity and misery."

They downed shot after shot, not caring how drunk they were. In the morning they could just erase the hangover with a simple potion, and nothing would remain except that there was less in the bottle.  
They had made their way to the sitting room, where Hermione was now laying with her head on Draco's lap.  
"I hate life. It's so stupid. What the bloody hell did we do to deserve to fight a war at 18? It's not like any of us were particularly bad people..."  
"I don't know..." He whispered. "I guess the stars just decided to be cruel."  
She nodded, as he stroked her hair.  
After a few more seconds, she spoke.  
"Kiss me. Please." She begged, sitting up and circling her arms around his neck.  
"Wh-"  
"Just do it."  
Hesitantly, Draco leaned forward and placed his lips on hers.  
The feeling was one that had been long forgotten by the both of them. Hermione sighed as he pulled her closer, his hands cupping her face as she gripped the lapels of his coat.  
He laid down on the sofa, pulling her with him, not breaking apart, as she lightly ran her fingers down his arms, causing the muscle beneath to tense then relax.  
Neither had had so much physical contact with another being in nearly six years. Both needed each other, to heal the wounds and cover the scars.  
She rubbed her thumb over his dark mark, which had faded to a barely noticeable grey, and he stroked the word his aunt had carved into her arm.  
By the time they pulled away, they were dying for air. She laid across him, both watching the violet flames in the fireplace.  
"I should go..." He said, but made no move to leave, only ran his fingers through her curls.  
"No. Stay." She demanded. She then stood and pulled him with her up the stairs to her bedroom.  
As she laid down in the king sized bed, he took off his shoes and shirt, then crawled under the covers with her. Already half asleep, Hermione snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest and listening to the steady beating. }{-}{  
It became a ritual. Every night Draco would apparate to Hermione's apartment, where they'd drink and kiss and eventually go to bed. And after a while, the nightmares lessened. It wasn't always now that Hermione would wake up screaming, Draco having to hold her until she cried herself back to sleep. It wasn't always that he'd wake up in a frigid sweat, Hermione's soothing whispers comforting him.  
Though the dreams still came, (and they'd never really go away,) they could deal with it. So long as they had each other.  
••••


End file.
